


Drag Me Down

by wocket



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: BDSM, Boot Worship, Dom/sub, Dominance, Dylric, Established Relationship, Foot Fetish, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-12-01 19:46:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20879102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wocket/pseuds/wocket
Summary: Dylan indulges his foot fetish after Eric asks to switch things up.





	Drag Me Down

_”You goddamn piece of punk-ass shit. Do not mess with that freakin’ kid. If you do, I’ll rip off your goddamn head and shove it so far up your freakin’ ass, you’ll be coughing up dandruff for four freakin’ months!”_

Eric presses pause on the remote control. The image of Dylan’s face freezes on the television screen, lines of static running across his nose. They’d just finished editing one of their recent video productions for school and were reviewing the tape one last time in Eric’s basement before turning it in to the teacher on Monday.

“You know, you weren’t bad,” Eric commends Dylan on his performance in _Hitmen for Hire_. The compliment is lackluster.

“High praise from Eric Harris,” Dylan replies sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Thanks.” Dylan had laughed in take after take, but the final product is pretty good. Staring the camera down, Dylan comes off as intimidating and threatening.

“I mean it. You were pretty good,” Eric tells his boyfriend. Turned on, he drops the remote control and starts kissing Dylan’s neck.

Dylan shoves him away, still a little annoyed at the less-than-stellar feedback. “The hell? You gonna critique my performance in bed, too?”

Eric persists, pushing Dylan’s blond hair back so he can suck a hickey into the pale skin. He follows it up by pressing a wet kiss to Dylan’s mouth, one intended to take things from zero to sixty relatively quickly. Eric’s tongue and hands are insistent, and Dylan finds it difficult to feign disinterest for much longer.

“Want to hear my genius idea?" Eric asks, nipping at Dylan's mouth. "We could switch things up. You could boss me around a little,” Eric suggests, hands wandering. "Instead of the usual."

Dylan snickers, not believing what he's hearing. “You serious?” 

“What’s the matter? Can’t handle it?”

“No! I mean - fuck you, Reb, I can handle anything you can,” Dylan says, twisting in Eric’s arms to face him.

“Babe, I want you to do whatever,” Eric says earnestly. “It’ll be fun. For once I’ll be your dirty little whore.”

Dylan thinks it over. It seems suspicious that Eric is offering up control but the thought of giving Eric a taste of his own medicine is too good to resist. “When?”

“Right now, bitch!”

Eric tugs Dylan’s lower lip between his teeth in an effort to rile him up. He rubs Dylan’s dick over his pants, trying to coax him to hardness.

Dylan warms up to the idea. He holds Eric at length. “Get on your knees. Wait - take your shirt off first.”

“Which is it?” Eric asks, narrowing his eyes.

“Shirt off. Definitely,” Dylan decides.

Eric whips his t-shirt over his head and throws it to the floor without hesitation. Dylan looks his shirtless boyfriend up and down appreciatively before giving him a filthy kiss. 

“On your knees, Reb.”

Eric obeys. He maintains eye contact with Dylan as he does so. He might be the one on his knees this time, but his gaze is strong, challenging.

Dylan forces Eric’s chin up. “Are you really going to do anything I want?”

“Yes, Vodka. _Sir._ Do your worst.”

Dylan slaps him across the mouth. The hit takes Eric by surprise; Dylan can see him try to process what just happened, his pupils dilating as he runs his tongue over his lip.

“Then take me seriously,” Dylan warns him. He drinks in the sight of Eric below him. “I want to watch you suck my cock.”

Eric spreads Dylan’s legs, hands gripping his thighs. He nudges them further apart before unzipping Dylan’s fly, wrapping his fingers around Dylan’s dick and giving him a few preliminary strokes. 

Dylan murmurs when Eric’s mouth descends on his dick. Eric was real good at this whenever he could be convinced to do it, smart mouth always striking the right balance between tender and teasing. Eric’s soft mouth moves up and down Dylan’s shaft, speeding up under his murmured encouragement. 

After almost bringing Dylan to the edge, Eric pulls off of Dylan’s cock with a wet noise. He leaves Dylan’s dick shining with spit, hard and red and aching. Testing his limits, Eric pushes up Dylan’s shirt so he can mouth a kiss below his navel, starting to suck a hickey into the skin.

“Do you think this is a game?” Dylan growls. _He’s lucky he’s so good at this,_ Dylan thinks.

Eric grins and yanks free of Dylan’s grasp. Digging his fingers into Dylan’s thighs, hard, he puts his mouth back on Dylan’s dick, working his tongue over the head. 

“More,” Dylan orders.

Eric takes him down all the way.

Dylan moans, feeling powerful and loving it, though he really is content to let Eric maintain control most of the time. Dylan enjoys being the one following Eric’s every order and command, appreciating the way being submissive allows his mind a distraction for once. There’s no telling how good Dylan feels being used at Eric’s hand, how much he likes Eric’s hands in his hair, on his neck, bearing down on him. Having Eric on his knees before him, though? Spectacular. 

“More,” he repeats, and Eric pushes himself harder, taking Dylan down his throat far enough to gag. 

Dylan is quiet, focusing on Eric’s mouth and the way his eyes flick up to look at him through long eyelashes. His hips stutter, and for a second he thinks he might come until Eric pulls off his dick again, cool air hitting wet skin. He groans at the lack of contact.

Eric grins, as if the reaction is just what he wanted.

“Does sir need some encouragement?”

Eric licks a deliberate stripe across Dylan’s dick then noses the inside of Dylan’s thigh, following the seam of the fabric and working his way lower. The pace is punishing, and Eric takes his time moving down until he reaches the top of Dylan’s combat boot. Eric nuzzles the shaft of the boot, pressing his cheek against the black leather. 

Dylan is already turned on but his dick gets rock hard at the sight of Eric giving some affection to his boots. Mesmerized at once, he reminds himself to breathe.

“Lick it,” he says bravely, gathering up all the courage he can muster.

“What was that?” Eric taunts, playing with Dylan. “I didn’t hear you down here.”

“Lick my boots,” Dylan says, louder this time, undeniable. His heart skips a beat.

Eric starts to lean forward but Dylan stops him, grabbing him by the shoulder. “Hands on the ground,” Dylan commands, and there’s something about it that’s so much _worse_, but Eric promised he could do anything he wants.

Still kneeling at Dylan’s feet, Eric places his hands flat on the floor. For a moment, everyone is still, silent. Then Eric creeps forward and kisses the toe of Dylan’s boot.

Dylan is shaking, but he’s hiding it well. His boner, already hard and aching from Eric’s mouth, gives an excited throb. He wraps his fingers firmly around his erection.

Eric runs his pink tongue flat across the toe of Dylan’s black boot. The movement is slow and measured, his touch almost reverent. Eric works in a way that ensures Dylan can see his every move, knowing Dylan won’t be able to look away.

Dylan stares, watching him carefully. He finds it captivating.

Eric licks the black laces, works his way up, slides his tongue over the knot Dylan tied this morning. Taking care to make sure Dylan sees it all, Eric’s tongue darts out from behind his smile to press against the top of Dylan’s boot. 

Dylan lets out a sound that can only be described as a whimper. He jerks himself off, unbelievably aroused from watching Eric’s worshipful tongue. Despite his foot fetish, this isn’t something he’s ever pictured, but now, with adrenaline coursing through his veins and a hand on his dick, he can’t get enough of the sight of Eric on his knees below him, lips on leather. Somehow Eric always figures out what he needs.

Eric pulls away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What are you doing?” Dylan fusses desperately, despite the fact he’d been doing such a good job staying in character with his darker persona.

“If you don’t like it, maybe you should punish me, _sir_,” Eric suggests, saying the name like it’s a joke as a means of encouraging Dylan to push harder. He sits up a little, leaning back on his heels and putting his hands on his own knees instead of on the floor.

Dylan doesn’t hold back. In a mixture of passion and provocation, Dylan knocks Eric flat onto his back in one swift move. He steps onto his chest, applying enough pressure to pin him to the floor without hurting him. His eyes are drawn to the way Eric’s chest heaves underneath his combat boot.

Eyes wide, Eric licks his lips.

Dylan’s dick twitches, getting even harder at the sight. Standing over Eric and looking down at the way his boot is keeping him pressed flat against the ground, Dylan starts to jerk off again. Dylan shifts his foot a little higher, over Eric’s collarbone.

Dylan’s hand speeds up, more turned on than ever. Breathless, he works his hand over his dick with desperation, unable to look away from Eric underneath his boot. He sees Eric’s hand creep into his jeans to touch himself but he’s too close to pretend he cares about making Eric wait for his command, some part of him emboldened by the fact that Eric is just as turned on as he is.

With a choked moan, Dylan starts to come, white liquid spilling over his fingers and into Eric’s open mouth, some of it landing on the tip of his boot.

“_Fuck_.” Dylan’s whole body quivers. He bends down, foot still pressed against Eric’s ribcage, and slips two fingers into Eric’s open mouth. Eric’s pink lips close around his long, narrow fingers, and he licks the come from Dylan’s knuckles, tongue curling around his fingertips. Dylan shudders at the sensation.

It takes a couple of moments after Dylan’s climax for it to sink in that he’s still pinning Eric to the floor underneath his boot. He lifts his foot off Eric’s chest.

“You’re better at this than I thought,” Eric admits, heartbeat pulsing fast, matching Dylan’s.

Dylan offers Eric his hand - to take, this time - and Eric joins him on the edge of the bed. Dylan tangles their fingers together. “I learned from the best,” he says fondly, remembering the many times Eric’s had him begging for mercy underneath his hands.

“Maybe,” Eric pouts with a smirk. “You didn’t even call me a slut once.”

In a flash, Dylan reaches his free hand (his dominant hand) up to Eric’s throat.

Eric is gasping for breath through parted lips before he even sees Dylan’s hand coming, but his eyes betray his arousal. 

“I don’t have to,” Dylan murmurs possessively, leaning close. His voice is low, his lips brushing against Eric’s ear. “You know who you belong to.”


End file.
